Flogging the Quill

Flogometer: description alone wasn’t enough

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

Some homework. Before sending your novel's opening, you might want to read these two FtQ posts: Story as River and Kitty-cats in Action. That'll tell you where I'm coming from, and might prompt a little rethinking of your narrative.

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This is for Barukh. Here are the first 16 lines:

Her name was Nilou. We met on Melrose Avenue. I was walking to a nearby liquor store and she was shopping. I'd noticed her from across the street. I followed her for about a bloBck, then pretended to ask her for directions. She was wearing large black sunglasses on her head. Hanging from her neck was a long gold necklace with the word NILOUFAR written in cursive lettering. We talked for a while. I asked to come out with me, for a drink.

Nilou looked good. She was deeply tanned with feathered black hair, dark eyes, and thick eyebrows centered by a long, aquiline nose, the type of nose that would soon be looked at by a plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills. I thought her nose was beautiful because it made her face more real. She had that relaxed and well-rested look that meant she came from money. Poor people in L.A. always look stressed out and beaten down by life while the rich look like as if life moves somehow for them, as if they will somehow live forever.

While I liked some of the description here, this opens with "telling" rather than a scene (action, dialogue, etc.) that "shows" me a story beginning. And, truth be told, the only real story question here revolves around whether or not this guy is going to pick up this girl. Not, for me, enough to force me to turn the page. If I had, I'd have learned that he picks her up, gets her drunk, and has fairly explicit sex on the hood of his car in front of a store. Even then, I had no idea of what the story was about.

A craft note or two. I thought the sentence structure in the first paragraph, primarily short subject/verb/object sentences (Her name was… We met… I was walking…She was wearing…We talked…I asked [missing word "her"]…) produced a staccato effect that was (just for me, mind you) less than appealing.

I thought including his reactions to her description in the second paragraph was good; I urge writers to turn descriptive narrative into characterization for the point-of-view character as well, and this does that.

By way of looking out for instances of "telling" where "showing" would be better, the reference to a "long gold necklace" doesn't do much for creating a picture in this reader's mind primarily because "long" is a relative term. Since we have nothing to relate it to, it can't really create a picture. For example, "a gold necklace that hung down between her breasts" would illustrate a "long" necklace with a picture and avoid the vague adjective.

Same goes for "wearing large black sunglasses on her head." Large compared to what? Also, does this mean that she has the sunglasses pushed up on top of her head? If so, something like that would help with picturing her. Even better would be to put it into action. For example:

She pushed black sunglasses that covered half her face up onto her head to squint into a window at a jewelry display.

This may be fine beginning for readers who like a leisurely sort of "mood" opening for their stories, but for me the lack of story was a barrier I just wasn't willing to hurdle. If you can begin with some kind of action that shows me that the character does something that may cause trouble, or wants something and is denied, or some other form of tension or conflict, you have the writing skills to weave a good story.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer: craft glitches sunk this one

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

Some homework. Before sending your novel's opening, you might want to read these two FtQ posts: Story as River and Kitty-cats in Action. That'll tell you where I'm coming from, and might prompt a little rethinking of your narrative.

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This is for Marti. Here are the first 16 lines:

My father's voice whispered in my ear, "A single moment."

I nearly wet my pants.

I leapt up from the cemetery bench, shaking.  My heart pounded, and my eyes darted around like hummingbirds on crack.

What the hell was that?

It sounded like my father's voice.  The voice I'd heard all my life was talking into my ear, just like he was standing right there.

Only he wasn't standing right there, he couldn't be, would  never be standing right there again.

He's dead.

It had to be my imagination.  After all, Daddy uttered that phrase a thousand times.  Yes, that's it.

Breathe.  Breathe.

The wind blew a wisp of golden brown hair across my face, frightening me again.  I brushed it aside, feeling foolish.

This is insane.  You're just overwrought.

Marti did a lot of things right here -- started with a scene, raised an interesting story question, has an appealing voice -- but just not enough to overcome some narrative shortcomings and move me further into the story. You've probably read that agents and acquisition editors say they're looking for reasons to reject a submission. While they're also looking for reasons to accept one, the volume is such that signs of less-than-professional writing are frequently enough to make them pass.

One big flaw, which was not repeated on subsequent pages, were disagreements of verb tense -- there are a couple of present-tense verbs in a past-tense narrative. And there was a little overwriting, IMO. Here are some notes:

My father's voice whispered in my ear, "A single moment."

I nearly wet my pants.

I leapt up from the cemetery bench, shaking.  My heart pounded, and my eyes darted around like hummingbirds on crack. The light tone of this was an interesting contrast to the idea of being sufficiently startled to wet one's pants.

What the hell was that? Couple of things: you don't need to italicize what is clearly internal monologue. And I don't think this internal question is needed -- she answers it in the next line, and I'm not so sure a person would do this upon hearing what she heard. This slows the narrative, and I'd delete it.

It sounded like my father's voice.  The voice I'd heard all my life was talking into my ear, just like he was standing right there.

Only he wasn't standing right there, he couldn't be, would  never be standing right there again.

He's dead.  The present tense here brought me to a halt, which was too bad as it's a terrific hook.

It had to be my imagination.  After all, Daddy had uttered that phrase a thousand times.  Yes, that's it.  "That's" is another bit of present tense sneaking in. With this second instance of the wrong tense, I was feeling that I would be confronted with a manuscript full of them, and I didn't want to be reading that. Interestingly, there were no more of these in a number of the following pages. Just goes to show you how much care you have to give to that opening page.

Breathe.  Breathe.   Personally, I don't think this helps. It's another pause in an otherwise interesting situation. And, in a situation as mysterious and potentially alarming as this one is, would a person really be telling themselves to breathe? I think they would just continue experiencing it, which is what the reader wants to do.

The wind blew a wisp of golden brown hair across my face, frightening me again.  I brushed it aside, feeling foolish. The description is a step out of her point of view and into a more omniscient one. It's the author telling us something, not the character experiencing it. No one, in my view, would be conscious of his or her hair color in a situation like this. In addition, this action contributes nothing to the story, tension, etc. I don't believe that the wind blowing a wisp of hair across her face would really frighten her, not if it wasn't unusual, and the narrative hasn't told us that the day was still and calm and the wind comes out of nowhere. So it doesn't matter that the wind blew a wisp of hair across her face, IMO.

This is insane.  You're just overwrought.   This is more internal monologue that really doesn't contribute to the story, in my view. It's slowing me down, and a damper on my wondering what's going on here.

So it was craft issues that slowed me to a halt here, not story questions. I continued to read, of course, in order to get a bigger picture. No more tense errors jumped out at me, but there was overwriting, and right at the top of the page a continuity problem stuck out. The narrative said this:

The compact clattered to the ground.

Compact? As you can see, the narrative contains no reference to a compact, so its out-of-the-blue appearance was another clue that this manuscript, despite some appealing elements, really needs polishing and editing before it's ready to be considered for publication.

But keep at it, Marti. Oh, by the way, please send samples in standard manuscript form instead of it being formatted in single spacing, no indents, extra space between paragraphs, and on 6" x 9" paper. I know you have it that way for self-publishing purposes, but it's a pain to have to reformat it in order to properly assess it.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer: unclear telling & abstract description stopped me

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

Some homework. Before sending your novel's opening, you might want to read these two FtQ posts: Story as River and Kitty-cats in Action. That'll tell you where I'm coming from, and might prompt a little rethinking of your narrative.

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This is for Sharon. Here are the first 16 lines:

Tree limbs snatched the cloth from her shoulders. Frozen rain stung exposed flesh while she crept through the underbrush, pausing innumerable times to learn the terrain.

A horizontal layer of black clouds parted to reveal a full moon. In the slight yellowish tint the area looked unfamiliar. The hair on the back of her head prickled and stood on end when the feeling of confusion changed to a sense of dread.

Convinced that psycho was still out there somewhere, Vera took advantage of the opportunity to move faster.

She didn't get very far before a tightness in her chest forced her to stop. No sooner had she quit moving she heard something. Wheezing fast and hard, her throat grew raw. She propped her arm with the one flattened on her ribcage under petite breasts. When she pressed a hand against her neck to ease the pain, she noticed a numbing sensation in her fingers.

Frostbite?

She fought the urge to panic. Minuscule globs of mucus slid in and out of her nostrils with each haggard pant. She sniffled brusquely. Holding her breath, she tilted her head and listened. She searched for any sign of movement.

There was nothing to see.  It was too damn dark now.  She thought the noise had come

It was the nature of this narrative that stopped me from turning the page, not story. Sharon has definitely raised story questions, but I stumbled over so many things in this first 16 lines that I didn't care to read more prose like it. Note, Sharon, that this is a subjective reaction and others might not feel that way. But I owe it to you to explain, so I will.

Tree limbs snatched the cloth from her shoulders. Frozen rain stung exposed flesh while she crept through the underbrush, pausing innumerable times to learn the terrain. A pile of problems in this paragraph. "snatched the cloth" -- what is meant by "the cloth?" Did she have a piece of cloth draped over her shoulders? If a tree limb pulled it away, couldn't she reach up and get it back? "stung exposed flesh" -- what was exposed? If it stung her bare shoulders or back, show us that so we can picture it. As this is, we don't know what's exposed. "pausing innumerable times" is abstract and is telling. For example, "she paused every few seconds" is something we can picture, but "innumerable times" isn't.

A horizontal layer of black clouds parted to reveal a full moon. In the slight yellowish tint the area looked unfamiliar. The hair on the back of her head prickled and stood on end when the feeling of confusion changed to a sense of dread. About that full moon -- what happened to the trees? We lack a good picture of where she is -- you've mentioned trees, underbrush, and the moon. How does she see it? Come to a clearing? The forest thinned? Help us see.  "the area looked unfamiliar" Why should she expect it to look familiar -- in the first paragraph she paused innumerable times to learn the terrain. By definition, if she has to learn it, it's unfamiliar. This confused me. As for the hair on the back of her head: the cliché is back of the neck; "prickled" is good; "stood on end" is cliché; "the feeling of confusion changed to a sense of dread" was confusing. What feeling of confusion? The narrative hasn't let us know that she was confused. More than that, the narrative tells us nothing that would motivate the change in feeling -- if it's the unfamiliarity, well, I've already noted that problem.

Convinced that the psycho was still out there somewhere, Vera took advantage of the opportunity to move faster. What opportunity does this refer to? Is it the added light of the full moon? I had to stop and (maybe) figure that out. If it was so dark that it was hard to see and now the moonlight makes it possible, let us know. Also, "move faster" isn't very specific -- does she run? Trot? What?

She didn't get very far before a tightness in her chest forced her to stop.  No sooner had she quit moving than she heard something. Wheezing fast and hard, her throat grew raw. She propped her arm with the one flattened on her ribcage under petite breasts. When she pressed a hand against her neck to ease the pain, she noticed a numbing sensation in her fingers. Her wheezing isn't as motivated as it could be if we saw her running in the previous paragraph. The sentence about propping her arm stopped me altogether to try and picture what was happening, and I still didn't "see" her gesture. Also, the description of "petite breasts" is a flaw in point of view -- a person running in the dark from a psycho wouldn't think of the size of her breasts. "her neck" is vague -- at first I imagined the back of her neck, but there had been no pain described there, then I thought of the raw throat, which is where she would have pressed, I guess. So the reference was unclear.

Frostbite?  Don't need italics here. It can be internal monologue, and the reader will get it.

She fought the urge to panic. Minuscule globs of mucus slid in and out of her nostrils with each haggard pant. She sniffled brusquely. Holding her breath, she tilted her head and listened. She searched for any sign of movement. Oh, my -- "miniscule globs of mucus." This is, IMO, overwriting. There's no need for the reader, I think, to be visualizing mucus going in and out of her nostrils. I don't feel that it contributes. As for sniffing "brusquely," the use of the adverb in this unfamiliar way stopped me. I actually looked it up to see what you intended. Look for a way to describe her sniffing without the adverb and with a picture.

There was nothing to see.  It was too damn dark now.  She thought the noise had come The first sentence is "telling." You could combine the first and second, i.e. "It was too damn dark to see." But why is it too dark? The full moon is out, right? Or did it go behind the clouds?

I must be in a crummy mood today, because the above critique seems brutal (brusque?). But the notes are sincere -- there's a lack of clarity and specificity that are crippling what could be a tense scene. Keep at it, Sharon, you clearly have something gripping in mind, you just need to help us see it on the paper.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer: menace turned the page

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Update Stop by my guest post on Writer Unboxed, A Darwinian theory of publishing.

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The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

Some homework. Before sending your novel's opening, you might want to read these two FtQ posts: Story as River and Kitty-cats in Action. That'll tell you where I'm coming from, and might prompt a little rethinking of your narrative.

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This is for Susan. Here are the first 16 lines:

It was over before he was even completely inside of her. He roughly pushed her onto her back and swung his legs over the side of the cramped bed, sitting up. Not exactly how he had pictured it, after all these years. Raking his fingers through his hair, he sat there for a moment and thought of what to say next. Somehow "thank you" didn't seem to fit the situation. "Sorry" didn't seem necessary, either, given the circumstances. He was moving toward the chair to grab his pants when he heard a muffled laugh behind him.

At first he thought he had imagined it, but when he glanced back over his shoulder and looked at her, she had her hands over her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a giggle. It didn't matter, though, because it was one of those laughs that went all the way to the eyes, and all he saw at that moment were those eyes, sneering at him from above her hands. He stepped toward her.

"Whoa, whoa, hang on a minute there, stud." She snickered. "Don't get yourself all worked up." She held up her hands in a mock surrender and he figured she was too high or maybe just too stupid to realize it wasn't funny. She pushed herself up onto both elbows to get a better look at him, as he stood naked in front of her.

Susan wove a subtle sense of menace into this narrative, enough to get me to turn the page. I was right -- a murder happens on page two. So good job, Susan. But I think this could be tighter, and more clear, and maybe even more menacing. Let's have a look.

It was over before he was even completely inside of her. He roughly pushed ("roughly pushed" is a lazy use of an adverb to try to describe. IMO, a strong verb would be much better here. For example, shoved, or slammed, or forced, or…) her onto her back and swung his legs over the side of the cramped bed, (What is a "cramped" bed? This description gave me no picture. Is it needed?) sitting up (While there's nothing technically wrong with "sitting up," use of the participle always feels weaker to me than a good, active verb, i.e. "and sat up."). Not exactly how he had pictured it, after all these years. (I liked this hint of a past -- in prison, maybe?.) Raking his fingers through his hair, he sat there for a moment and thought of what to say next. Somehow "thank you" didn't seem to fit the situation. "Sorry" didn't seem necessary, either, given the circumstances. He was moving toward the chair to grab his pants when he heard a muffled laugh behind him. (This last sentence suffers from "wasing," the use of the past participle. I think it would be stronger and more active with something such as, He stood to get his pants from the chair and heard a muffled laugh behind him.)

At first he thought he had imagined it, but when (Why would he think he imagined hearing a laugh? They are alone in the room, and it seems like it would be clear as to what actually happened.) he glanced back over his shoulder and looked at her, (don't really need this; it's a little bit of overwriting -- the reader will "see" this if you go to the next part, what he sees.) sShe had her hands over her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a giggle. It didn't matter, though, because it was one of those laughs that went all the way to the eyes, and all he saw at that moment were those eyes, sneering at him from above her hands. He stepped toward her. (It was the verb "sneering" that helped me understand that trouble could come from this guy, but I wonder if it wouldn't be more menacing if, for example, He clenched his fists and stepped toward her.)

"Whoa, whoa, hang on a minute there, stud." She snickered. "Don't get yourself all worked up." She held up her hands in a mock surrender and he figured she was too high or maybe just too stupid to realize it wasn't funny. She pushed herself up onto both elbows to get a better look at him, as he stood naked in front of her. (I didn't think this last bit of action contributed -- better to keep the pace up and get to the action, IMO.)

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer: fiddling around stayed the page

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

Some homework. Before sending your novel's opening, you might want to read these two FtQ posts: Story as River and Kitty-cats in Action. That'll tell you where I'm coming from, and might prompt a little rethinking of your narrative.

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This is for Pattie. Here are the first 16 lines:

"Look out!"

A hand shoved Albany to the floor behind a display case. Carpet burn was instantly forgotten as a body dropped across her middle.

"What -- "

"Stay down!" He palmed her rising head and pushed, despite her screaming protest. "Sorry about all this," he continued, his voice a whisper near her ear, "but I want to save your life. I'm sure you'll thank me when this is over."

"Thank you?" she demanded indignantly, her mind racing.

"Oh. You're welcome. A pleasure, I'm sure."

"Who are you?"

He gasped, pressing down. A strange whistling noise raced by. He eased back a fraction. "Name's Milo Beacon St. Clare Scarlet. Milo to my friends, Scarlet to the world at large. No Gone with the Wind jokes, please. I've heard them all, and they're just not funny. And you are?"

"Confused."

"Odd name."

"Get off me!"

Despite the fact that this story opens with a scene, and that it opens with action, "fiddling around" -- diverting to non-essential blather -- stopped me from turning this page. I guess I was a tad tired and impatient this morning, and needed a real hook (not unlike an agent, I suspect).

For me, things were going fine until we got to the bit about his name. I didn't want to know his bleeping name, I wanted to know what the hell was going on, which was totally unclear.

Too bad I didn't turn the page because this paragraph was waiting:

"There's an antique Japanese katana, a long samurai sword, doubtless you've seen one, whizzing above our heads -- " The sound of shattering glass caused him to pause, and she felt him duck down. "As I was saying, an ancient sword is destroying this charmingly twee antique shop in its manic search for us. Well, not us. You. And until I capture it, it's going to want to kill you."

Now there's a hook! Pattie, I think you're doing yourself, and the reader, a disservice with that diversion about Milo's name despite the element of humor it adds. There is a nice voice with a pleasing light touch developing, but at the expense of story, which is what we readers want. So let's edit a bit:

"Look out!"

A hand shoved Albany to the floor behind a display case. Carpet burn was instantly forgotten as a body dropped across her middle. (Not so sure about the carpet burn line. Would someone in a store who was being attacked be thinking about carpet burn? I don't think so. This is part of the fiddling around. If you want the carpet burn in there, perhaps a more straightforward description, i.e.The carpet burned her knees, and then a body dropped across her middle.)

"What -- "

"Stay down!" He palmed her rising head and pushed, despite her screaming protest. (I cut this because "What" hardly qualifies as a screaming protest. The narrative didn't let us know that she screamed, and her word is a question, not a protest.) "Sorry about all this," he continued, his voice a whisper near her ear, "but I want to save your life. I'm sure you'll thank me when this is over."

"Thank you?" she demanded indignantly, her mind racing. (For one thing, there's that lazy adverb, trying to deliver description when it can't. Secondly, I don't think this is needed and, in fact, slows things down. It's better, I think, to get to the fun exchange that follows.(

"Oh. You're welcome. A pleasure, I'm sure." I liked the wry humor here and would keep it.

"Who are you?"

He gasped, pressing down. A strange whistling noise raced by. He eased back a fraction. "Name's Milo Beacon St. Clare Scarlet. Milo to my friends, Scarlet to the world at large. No Gone with the Wind jokes, please. I've heard them all, and they're just not funny. And you are?"

"Confused."

"Odd name." I'd cut all this. There's plenty of time for him to introduce himself and do name jokes after the crisis is over. Also, there's a continuity glitch coming -- here he asks her name, but later he knows the history of her family. Confusing. I'd cut to the next line and then I'd get the paragraph about the guy with the sword on the first page. And I guarantee that I'd turn it then.

"Get off me!"

There you have it, Pattie. This would be a fun manuscript to edit, I suspect. I liked a lot of things about the writing and narrative that followed, although there were continuing signs of a tendency to overwrite. Cure that, or get fresh eyes with a sharp pencil involved to remove the fat, and I think you'll have an engaging beginning to what seems like a fun story.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer: empathy got the page turned, but then…

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

Some homework. Before sending your novel's opening, you might want to read these two FtQ posts: Story as River and Kitty-cats in Action. That'll tell you where I'm coming from, and might prompt a little rethinking of your narrative.

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This is for Chris. Here are the first 16 lines:

Before the stampede of buses roared up to the school loop, before the kids of East Hill Elementary bounded into their homeroom seats, before Principal Weins changed the letters of the schoolyard sign to read 'Happy Last Day,' Sharon Deemers crept around to the back of the school, slid the dumpster door open, and trashed her birthday party invitations.

She almost got away with it.

"Hey! Garage Girl! Watcha throwin' in the school dump?" Brian called out from behind a tree.

"Just some papers from home." Sharon zipped up her backpack, or 'patchpack' as she called it, and walked backwards a couple of steps. She eyed Brian, then the dumpster.

"I'm gonna get me a closer look," Brian taunted. He removed the Orioles baseball cap off his greasy brown hair, ambled over to the dumpster, and peered into the opening. Sharon stood a few feet away, frozen to the spot.

"Envelopes? Got any garage secrets inside?" With his back toward Sharon, he slowly reached into the dumpster. He wanted to pull out an envelope from the top of the trash pile. One that hadn't touched the spaghetti, spilled soda, or vegetable stew from yesterday's lunch.

Today was Brian's lucky day. He found a clean envelope. The one addressed to Miss Popularity.

This scene of the girl, an outcast being bullied, drew me in. I've been bullied, and it hooked me up with the character. There were signs of craft issues, though. Still, I turned the page. If I were an agent, I'm not sure if I would have kept reading because of those craft issues, but there was a chance. So let's work on the parts of the narrative that slowed pace and otherwise interfered.

The story is there -- conflict, jeopardy for the girl, those things that make me wonder what will happen next. But there was overwriting and a point of view shift that bothered me, and that I don't think I'd see in a ready-for-publishing work. Some notes and edits:

Before the stampede of buses roared up to the school loop, before the kids of East Hill Elementary bounded into their homeroom seats, before Principal Weins changed the letters of the schoolyard sign to read 'Happy Last Day,' Sharon Deemers crept around to the back of the school, slid the dumpster door open, and trashed her birthday party invitations. (All the dumpsters I've ever seen have lids that lift from the top, so I stumbled over this. It cost a little credibility, too, having a dumpster not work in the way I thought it was supposed to.)

She almost got away with it.

"Hey! Garage Girl! Watcha doin' throwin' in the school dump?" Brian called out from behind a tree her. (I don't think a kid would refer to the dumpster as "the school dump." As for the tree, not really needed. I thought it was better to position him behind her.)

"Just some papers from homeNothing." Sharon zipped up her backpack, or 'patchpack' as she called it, and walked backwards a couple of steps. She eyed Brian, then the dumpster. I think a kid startled by a bully would minimize to try to divert attention. I thought "walked backwards a couple of steps" was a little awkward and could have been handled with "she stepped back." And, while I'm sure that you're giving us the complete picture, I didn't thing the "eyeing" description was needed.

"I'm gonna get me a closer look." Brian taunted. He removed the Orioles baseball cap off his greasy brown hair, ambled over to the dumpster, pulled his Orioles baseball cap off his greasy brown hair, and peered into the opening lifted the lid. Sharon stood a few feet away, frozen to the spot. (I didn't feel his statement was a taunt. I thought the sequencing was a little wrong -- in visualizing the action, it seemed more natural for him to take off the cap just before looking inside. I had him lift the lid instead of peering into the opening because of how I see a dumpster working, and thought that that would have the reader seeing him peer in. I cut the "few feet away" because your staging has already shown us that, and it's not needed. BTW, "frozen to the spot" is a bit of a cliché, and I'd try for something more visual.)

He said, "Envelopes? Got any garage secrets inside?" With his back toward Sharon, hHe slowly reached into the dumpster. He wanted to pulled out an envelope from the top of the trash pile. One that hadn't touched the spaghetti, spilled soda, or vegetable stew from yesterday's lunch. It was Today was Brian's lucky day. He found a clean envelope. Tthe one addressed to Miss Popularity. (I found "Miss Popularity" confusing, thinking it actually said that. Either put it into quotes or use the name of the girl and maybe do something like "Emma, the girl Sharon thought of as "Miss Popularity." There was a point of view shift here, too, when the narrative included what Brian wanted. That can only come from inside Brian's mind, and we were close in Sharon's point of view.

Just to illustrate what the edits do, here's the streamlined version:

Before the stampede of buses roared up the school loop, before the kids of East Hill Elementary bounded into their homeroom seats, before Principal Weins changed the letters of the schoolyard sign to read 'Happy Last Day,' Sharon Deemers crept around to the back of the school, lifted the dumpster lid, and trashed her birthday party invitations.

She almost got away with it.

"Hey! Garage Girl! Watcha doin'?" Brian called from behind her.

"Nothing." Sharon zipped up her backpack, or 'patchpack' as she called it, and stepped back.

Brian ambled over to the dumpster, pulled his Orioles baseball cap off his greasy brown hair, and lifted the lid. Sharon stood frozen.

He said, "Envelopes? Got any garage secrets inside?" He pulled out an envelope that hadn't touched the spaghetti, spilled soda, or vegetable stew from yesterday's lunch. It was the one addressed to Emma, the girl Sharon thought of as "Miss Popularity."

What do you think? This took 13 lines, and got to the conflict sooner, with a quicker pace. More involving?

As I said, Chris, I liked what was happening and wanted to know more, but the writing lacked pace and, sometimes, clarity. Keep polishing and trim your opening down to the essential drama/conflict, and you'll be off to a much better start.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer: no story, no go

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

Font: while both 12-point Courier or Times New Roman are accepted just about everywhere, I suggest using Times New Roman for the simple reason that you'll get more of your words in those first 16 lines and thus increase your chances of hooking a reader.

Some homework.  Before sending your novel's opening, you might want to read these two FtQ posts: Story as River and Kitty-cats in Action. That'll tell you where I'm coming from, and might prompt a little rethinking of your narrative.

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This is for Hank. Here are the first 16 lines:

They were standing in front of the old boarded-up church on Onyx Street.

"Gimme a light," said Kitty, leaning toward Isley, cigarette trembling in the corner of her mouth. Isley snapped a flame from his big silver lighter after three false starts and held it to the tip of her cigarette. His hand was numb and shaking from the cold.

It was one of those bleak November Sundays when everything is dead and the sky is full of sleet and you're just waiting for the full weight of winter to come down.

"Thanks," said Kitty.

Peachfuzz was vomiting warm champagne on the granite church steps. It hit the stone with a slap, and steam wandered up toward the streetlight.

"You okay, Peach?" Kitty asked, drawing on her butt.

Peachfuzz wiped her lips with the back of her glove.

"Yeah." She straightened up and gave Kitty a wan smile. "Gimme a smoke, willya?"

Kitty shrugged. "My last one."

"Well, gimme a drag." She gestured toward the cigarette.

"Fuck off. I don't want your nasty-ass puke all over my filter.

"But I'm all out," said Peachfuzz.

Sorry, Hank, but I wasn't compelled to read on. While the writing is pretty good (but could be tighter) and you have opened with a scene instead of exposition, what I see is unappealing characters not doing much of anything. Nary a story question to make me wonder what will happen next, nary a hint of jeopardy for any of these people, nary a touch of tension. Just some vomiting, smoking, and cursing.

I did read on, of course, to see where you were going so I could write this post, but about all that happened for the next dozen pages was that these people bought some drugs and the girls went to a bar. There was still no story in sight, and I think you need to look for your inciting incident and pull it up to the front of your manuscript.

The point of view turned out to be uncertain, as well. On the first page it seems to be Isley's, the clue being that we learn that his hand is numb, information that can come only from being inside a character's point of view. But a little later he leaves and the scene continues without him. Perhaps you're going for an omniscient point of view -- I'd urge you to get into the pov of your main protagonist as soon as possible and get the reader involved.

Some technique notes: use of the "to be" verb weakened these descriptions (IMO). . .

• They were standing stood in front of the old boarded-up church on Onyx Street.
• Peachfuzz was vomiting vomited warm champagne on the granite church steps.

There were signs of overwriting, too.

• "Well, gimme a drag." She gestured toward the cigarette. (We understand she's talking about the cigarette, don't need this.)
• (this from later in the manuscript) She pulled off her right glove, slipped a cigarette from the pack. "Thanks."

And, while I liked the description in this sentence, I'm not so sure about the use of second person:

It was one of those bleak November Sundays when everything is dead and the sky is full of sleet and you're just waiting for the full weight of winter to come down.

In sum, Hank, you can write, that's for sure, but need to do two things, in my view: get to the story, and tighten up the narrative.

Thanks for sending your work, and keep at it.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer: and the story is…?

Update: FtQ friends Writer Unboxed is offering  writer-friendly prizes in today's post (9/1/07).

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The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

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This is for Helen. Here are the first 16 lines:

"Bloody travellers."

Bill isn't such a bad guy, but his mind is so narrow that at times you'd have a problem inserting the edge of a credit card. And I could tell he wanted to use rather stronger language, but was inhibited by the proximity of the church - and me.

Terrence joined in, pompously. "I suppose we'll have to try the police first" he said, with an edge of impatience. Terrence can be a real drama queen. He plays the important but exasperated civil servant, harassed by matters that should, by rights, be dealt with by underlings. Which happens to be pretty close to the truth, but it's amusing to see how he carries the role over into everyday life. "And then it'll be the usual trawl through the courts."

Alice was all sweetness and light. "We must do something for the children," she said. "Poor things: no heating and winter coming on." Sentiments which might give you the wrong idea about Alice, if you weren't aware of the fathoms of vitriol washing silently beneath the surface slick of honey.

Only Frank did not speak. Frank is something close to a saint: hard-working, conscientious, kind and honest. It's unfortunate that his innate humility, and his tendency to believe the best of everyone means his voice is not raised in dissent often enough to be of much comfort to me.

But then I too, was silent. I have never experienced a traveller's camp in close proximity-

Despite some quite nice writing (forgiving for the moment the switching from present tense to past and back again), and nicely succinct characterizations of Bill, Terrence, Alice and Frank, I didn't turn the page. There was a small tug of interest at the mention of the travelers (Helen's two "ll"s are a variant), but not enough -- and for many Americans who might not know that travelers are gypsy-like wanderers, there might not have been even that.

The reason: lack of sufficient story -- keeping in mind that this is subjective, of course. There were no story questions raised. Not much in the way of tension, only that Bill, Terrence and Alice disapproved of the travelers, and Frank had nothing to say. As for the narrator's position, no clue there, either.

Doing my duty as an editor, though, I read on. This prologue turns out to be very brief, and only serves to establish that the narrator is a clergyperson, a female vicar. Then chapter 1 begins and carries on in the same leisurely fashion. The vicar visits a traveler tent, has a brief conversation in which not much happens, and then later gives a sermon on Moses and the people of Israel fleeing Egypt.

To my jaded American eye, nothing has happened or is happening, at least nothing of dramatic consequence. Is this a case of writerly throat-clearing, that syndrome wherein the writers feels we MUST know certain things in order to understand the story? Or is it a more literary novel attuned to a British sensibility of narrative and pace?

For me, Helen's writing was good to read, I liked the voice of her narrator who has a nice, self-deprecating sense of humor, but there wasn't enough to compel me to wonder what was going to happen next.

For my money, Helen, have something happen more than villager suspicion and dislike of the travelers, if that's where the story is going, that they can buzz about and that the vicar can confront. Or something. We readers read for one thing -- story. And I don't have a clue as to what yours is, even after reading the first 7 pages. Perhaps a visit to my post on  "Story as River would be helpful.

I liked your writing (but work on consistency of verb tense, please), and wish you luck. Many thanks for sending your work.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey